


because the dead are everywhere but the ground.

by twoheadedcalf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, funerals/burials, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedcalf/pseuds/twoheadedcalf
Summary: caleb widogast dies on a fresh spring day, looking out the window and watching as a blue-green hummingbird sips from his blooming lilies.there’s no one there to witness it.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106





	because the dead are everywhere but the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> "i know why we bury our dead and mark the place with stone, with the heaviest, most permanent thing we can think of: because the dead are everywhere but the ground." -- anne michaels, fugitive pieces.

caleb widogast dies on a fresh spring day, looking out the window and watching as a blue-green hummingbird sips from his blooming lilies. 

his heart aches and a few tears spill but the house remains silent. for a moment, he wonders who will feed the chickens and the goats and his cat nix once he’s gone.

but it feels nice to finally let go. so he does.

there’s no one there to witness it.

*

it takes a little less than two weeks for someone to find his body. none of the village people have come looking for him, none of them missing the usual produce he sells at the farmer’s market every weekend yet. 

instead, essik theylas walks towards his door, visiting all the way from tal’dorei. 

they don’t do this that often anymore; caleb learned all there is to learn, or at least, all that essik can teach him, a long time ago. still, they see each other sometimes. mostly, caleb is the one who visits him, normally coming over without any warning, as is the way with all of the mighty nein, even though he tends to be more tactful about it.

but he hasn’t in a while. maybe he’s waiting for essik to take the initiative for once. maybe it’s finally time after almost twenty years of friendship.

he walks the path up to caleb’s small farm with his new periwinkle blue parasol up, despite the dimming morning light. it looks like it might rain in the afternoon.

he would have come during the night to avoid the hassle but caleb hasn’t been answering his sending stone in the last few days and essik knows how easy it is for humans to startle away from friendly things in the dark. 

the bushes around the house seem a little overgrown, which is. weird. in the — admittedly few — times he’s been here, he’d never seen any weeds among the flowers.

essik walks up to the porch. then to the door. he knocks.

there’s no answer. his hand sweats.

it’s a beautiful day. nothing bad could have happened on such a beautiful day, right?

caleb’s goats bleat. his chickens cluck. essik smells lavender.

he knocks again, waits a little longer. there’s still no answer.

essik casts and the door opens silently, harmlessly. 

essik enters.

and then—

and then—

and then. he exits.

no tears spill but in a minute, his whole body feels numb. his parasol drops from his hand and it makes a dull _thunk_ when it hits caleb’s sturdy porch.

he stares at the lavender and the lilies and the peonies and the roses as they bend in the wind. a hummingbird whizzes past him.

it takes several attempts before he manages to message jester.

“jester,” he starts. his voice is hoarse as if he hasn’t uttered a word in days when essik knows for a fact he made small talk with his neighbor before coming here. “you need to come to caleb’s right now. bring whoever you can.” there’s still a dozen words left but he can’t muster them up into a coherent sentence no matter how much he tries — or maybe he simply can’t find the courage. “please.”

*

in one moment, he’s staring down at the wooden panels of caleb’s small cottage porch and in the next, jester’s booted feet are in front of him.

he looks up at her slowly. his face is wet. beauregard’s frowning face hovers over jester’s shoulder. they look so old now. he still hasn’t aged a day.

caleb is— _was_ only fifty one. he has to remember that. that’s not old for humans, not truly. his birthday was coming up soon. essik wasn’t planning on visiting.

a sleek black cat runs out of the hose, stops by yasha’s feet where she stands in the sun like it recognizes her, and stares at them. 

“what happened?” beauregard croaks. she must know already, she’s not stupid. it must be obvious, considering the state he’s in.

essik shakes his head, still unable to say it. 

beauregard walks inside with her shoulders set. and walks out with her whole body slumped.

*

jester is the one who messages fjord and caduceus, her nose a sickening shade of wolfsbane purple, her eyes puffy and scratchy red.

it takes longer than it should for them to get there. essik would be angry if he could feel something like that at the moment. 

fjord walks like he’s marching into battle but the armor drops with each and every step. essik can almost hear the _clangs_ and _thunks_ of it falling inside his head. he’s nearly unmade by the time he arrives at the doorway.

caduceus looks pleasantly solemn. maybe essik _can_ feel anger. 

“you don’t need to walk inside if you don’t want to, alright?” caduceus tells fjord and walks in.

fjord stares at the door. then his gaze seems to be guided to essik’s slumped form by some unknown force. essik stares up at him blearily.

then, fjord steps inside.

the sobs start just as caduceus walks out. “he needs a moment.”

*

fjord needs several moments, as it turns out. his sobs and whimpers are the only thing disturbing the picturesque silence.

the house seems to shake with the force of them. or maybe that’s just essik’s own shoulders trembling.

he stares as yasha plays with caleb’s cat. they are the only ones left on the porch; beauregard, jester, and caduceus left to play with the goats a while ago.

he doesn’t know the name of the cat. he never got along with the thing, unequipped to deal with a real animal, its moods and whims. he asked every time he visited ( _not often,_ his mind recriminates him, _not often at all_ ) but never managed to remember it and now he’ll never hear the word leave caleb’s mouth again.

essik closes his eyes.

*

when fjord walks out of the house he looks like a different person. his skin is sickly pale, except for the angry brown flush on his nose that makes him look like he’s had a fever. his eyes are red and sunken in.

he looks exhausted. he looks _defeated_.

he doesn’t look at essik this time. he doesn’t look at anyone.

*

they sit in a circle by the rose bushes. caleb’s old black cat sleeps on yasha’s shoulders. 

“so,” jester starts quietly. “are we getting him back?”

all together, beauregard, essik and yasha shake their heads. jester’s carefully neutral expression crumbles and morphs into a mix of anger and sadness.

“why not?”

“he wouldn’t want that—” yasha tries. 

“why the fuck not?” jester’s frown is so deep her eyebrows seem to touch her eyelashes.

“what,” beauregard starts with a bitter, awful laugh that’s like nails on chalkboard. “just so we can feel better about the fact that we all forgot about him and let him die completely alone?” another laugh. “no, thanks.”

fjord buries his face in his hands. his hair is almost fully grey now. essik wonders if this is what may finally send him over the edge.

“that’s not true—”

“caleb, for all intent and purposes, died naturally. let him rest, jes.”

there’s a pause. the wind blows and leaves rustle. he can smell rain.

(except he didn’t, didn’t he? he died from a hurt essik knows very well, the pain of loneliness, of a heart that shrivels up with every beat it has to take without a matching, echoing one. it’s awful and miserable and it makes him think of every seemingly pointless visit caleb made, every festival he invited him to, every comment he made about how busy the rest of the nein were and essik _aches and shakes and feels the need to take something, kill something, hurt someone, whatever, whatever—._ )

“we should take him to the arbor exemplar as soon as possible.” caduceus says matter of factly.

“no,” comes fjord’s ragged voice.

“what?”

“no. he shouldn’t be there.”

caduceus frowns. “why not?”

“he told me…” fjord swallows. “he told me once, sometime ago… about a deity he was— following… that brought him comfort, that— that kept him _company_ … th-the archeart?”

all of them blink at fjord, half stunned. caduceus seems confused for a different reason.

“and?” he says, like that wasn’t explanation enough.

“and maybe he should be buried in a graveyard dedicated to the deity he worshipped?”

“just because he worshipped them them doesn’t mean—”

“isn’t the grove dedicated to the archeart anyway—”

“i just think that—”

“i don’t care what you think, cad! i _care_ about _caleb_ having some semblance of peace at least in _death_! being set apart even in this is _not_ peace!”

fjord pants like he’s run a marathon by the time he’s done. all of them stare at him, wide eyed. 

“someone needs to get veth,” essik says absently, looking up as the first drops of rain start to fall.

*

it doesn’t rain in the blooming grove but it’s not spring in there either. eternal summer surrounds them and it’s like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, itching at him like an ill fitting sweater. 

caleb was forged in spring, born into it and dead in it now, always walking around with flowers in his hair and smelling like a fresh garden.

caleb is being buried in the blooming grove twelve days after his death to the sickly sweet smell of summer and with only the mighty nein around him. essik had always thought there’d be more people. his heart sinks. none of this fits but it’s all there’s left.

with every shovelful of dirt, essik wishes— he wishes— and wishes— and wishes—

and none of it matters.

caleb is dead in the ground and he’s never coming back.

**Author's Note:**

> find me as @bicalebwidogast on twitter.


End file.
